


routine

by hashire



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Older Characters, OtabekAltinWeek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 08:37:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12553516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hashire/pseuds/hashire
Summary: A Saturday in the life of Otabek and Yuri.





	routine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Windershi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Windershi/gifts).



> So, I'm a total deadbeat and didn't finish my exchange fic anywhere near on time for the exchange. I hope this is near what you wanted, Shian, but I think I strayed from your prompts a bit.
> 
> I'm tossing it into the otabek-altin-week mix (Day 6: past/future) because I'm a slut for validation™. 
> 
> Also, the Beshka thing comes from some fanart I saw forever ago of Yuri calling Otabek various nicknames. I thought that one was by far the cutest, so I put it in here. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the fanart to link it here. I'll happily link it if someone tells me what it is!

“Come back to bed, Beshka.” The pillow half muffles his voice; the other half comes out sleep-roughened with an underlying whine. “It’s Saturday.”

There’s a hum and the bed sinks slightly as Otabek returns. Yuri sighs and smiles as Otabek leans over him and brushes a kiss to his temple. Then, there’s a clink on the table next to him and the distinct aroma of strong coffee that he’d been adamantly ignoring as soon as it entered the room. He sighs again, more of a huff this time.

“There’s no food in the apartment, Yuratchka.” Otabek's voice rumbles into his ear, natural and comforting, though his words are an annoyance. “And we’re not ordering in again,” he says before Yuri can open his mouth.

Yuri yanks the covers over his head and grumbles. “Five more minutes.”

Otabek pulls the covers off him and tosses them to their feet. “We have things to do today, Yuratchka.”

Yuri turns over to glare at him but it ends up far short of full force: though serious, Otabek wears a fond look on his face. It’s warm and open and so familiar. The creases formed by the scrunched brow smooth on Yuri’s face. He pouts, still.

“You’ll rub my feet when we get home.”

“I always rub your feet.”

“This time you’ll do it longer.”

“You don’t like having your feet touched that much. You always pull away after a few minutes.”

Yuri huffs again and reaches for the coffee mug. It’s hot in his hand, so he sips instead of gulps. The last time they argued in the morning, Yuri burned the fuck out of his throat. Damn coffee maker, making scalding hot coffee. 

“Fine,” he mutters, settling back onto the pillows with the mug in his hand. The other finds Otabek’s on the bed without Yuri having to look for it. He earns a squeeze and Otabek rubs his knuckles with his thumb as they drink their coffee in silence.

-

Saturday morning at the market can be described with one word: busy. They’re outside in the sun; Yuri feels sour from the forced early rise. He had to get up at an insane hour during the week already. Why Saturday?

“You’re scaring children,” Otabek says without looking up from the list. The comment makes the line on Yuri’s forehead deepen for a moment before he relaxes, takes a deep breath, unwinds.

He selects an apple from the small pyramid. It shifts because doesn’t topple. There’s satisfaction in that. Had they gotten in any later the pyramid would have already been decimated. He takes another breath and sighs on the exhale. Otabek looks over at him still holding the apple and considering the display. He reaches for his free hand.

“It’s almost lunchtime. We should get moving.”

Yuri nods, plucking a few more apples from in front of him. He’s forced to let go of Otabek’s hand to shake out a bag and deposit the apples in it. As soon as they land in the cart, he takes Otabek’s hand again.

“Let’s go.”

-

On the way home, laden with bags but close enough to not warrant a ride in the car, they encounter Victor and Yuuri.

The sit on the same side of the table. Victor’s arm is around Yuuri’s shoulders and they’re looking at each other and smiling, a bit like a pair of infatuated teenagers. 

Yuuri notices them plodding along before Victor does. He raises a hand, and Victor calls out to them.

“Otabek! Yurio! Join us for lunch.” Yuri’s nose wrinkles at the nickname that should have died when he retired but somehow hadn’t. He opens his mouth to say no, but Otabek speaks before he can.

“We have to drop the groceries off first, but of course.” Damn him and his desire to impress Victor and Yuuri after all of these years. Victor had been wary of him for at most a few months right before and just after they started dating, and still – 

“Sure, sure! We haven’t ordered yet. We’ll wait for you.”

They move on. Yuri’s shoulder is starting to ache. Otabek follows after nodding at Victor and Yuuri.

Yuri casts a quick glance over his shoulder and finds the two wrapped up in each other again.

“They must be stalking us.”

Otabek raises an eyebrow at him. “Why would you think that?”

“Seriously? Beshka, they were waiting for us at the closest café.”

“It’s lunchtime and they know where we live. An earlier invite might have been nice, but –”

“‘We’re not ordering in again,’” Yuri recites. Otabek gives him a half-smile, one corner of his mouth hitching up enough to make on eye sparkle and crinkle at the corner.

Yuri’s taken back to when he was freshly sixteen and they finally figured out how to coordinate their schedules to skype. The expression on Otabek’s face when the call clicked was warm and fond, his mouth tilted into that same half-smile. His stomach jolts the way it did that day, before he understood the depths of his feelings (and before he even admitted to them).

“We’re not ordering in,” Otabek says, sounding so reasonable. Yuri can't find it in himself to argue more. “Now stop dragging your feet.”

-

“How was Japan?” Four drinks sit in front of them, the food order in.

“Great!” Victor says.

“It was nice to go back for a few months,” Yuri adds. “Mari needed help with her new position – she’s accepting more work at the inn so our parents can rest a bit more – so we spent a lot of time at the hot springs.”

“You two should join us next time,” Victor says, slinging his arm back around Yuuri’s shoulder as he stirs his drink.

“We have actual jobs, old man,” Yuri says. “We can’t just disappear for a few months.”

“Sure, you can! The sanctuary must allow you some vacation time, and it’ll be the off season before you know it.”

“It would be nice to take a break, Yuratchka.” 

Yuri looks at his drink, thinking about it perhaps too intently.

“Oh,” Yuuri says, interrupting his thoughts, “how is the big cat sanctuary doing these days?”

Yuri perks up immediately. “Great! We’re getting another tiger soon! And I’ll be his primary caretaker when he arrives.” He beams at the thought. He loves his job.

Otabek sets a hand on his thigh and squeezes. He’s looking at Yuri with that fond smile again, and Yuri melts and beams at him.

“That’s wonderful,” Yuuri says, and Victor nods.

-

Yuri’s good mood and renewed spirts continue as they return home afterward. Otabek doesn’t object when Yuri decides to take a nap, though he declines the invitation to join. It’s all perfectly fine. Yuri gets the whole bed to himself.

He wakes up sometime later to food cooking. The clock says it’s too early for dinner. Yuri ventures out anyway.

“Borscht,” Otabek says when Yuri arrives by his side. Were he younger, he might have made a snarky comment that he can easily tell, but he stays silent. He knows without asking that it’s his grandfather’s recipe; he refuses any and all others. They’re all fake.

The soup simmers as Yuri prepares the ingredients for a salad. Otabek starts making dough for chak-chak.

The silence stretches between them, but it’s warm and familiar. They speak through short touches and soft looks as they pass each other.

Dinner is a normal affair. Yuri asks about Otabek’s students again and listens intently to the things he mostly already knows. Yuri then tells grand stories about his favorite lions and tigers when Otabek is done. He nods along though he’s heardthe stories before. He never points out how embellished and ridiculous they are becoming. Yuri loves him so much.

After they finish, Otabek retires to his favorite chair in the front room with a book and his new reading glasses. Yuri stretches out on the couch with his phone too close to his face. 

They steal glances at each other, looking away before the other looks back. It’s a silly game they play too often, but neither is interested in stopping. Finally, Otabek shuts his book and sets it aside, along with the glasses. He rubs his eyes as Yuri tosses the phone aside and approaches.

“You should leave those on,” he says, settling in Otabek’s lap and folding himself comfortably against him. “They look good on you.” The glasses are simple with thin wire frames, but damn does he make them work.

“Really,” Otabek says, raising an eyebrow and putting an arm around Yuri’s shoulders and sliding a hand up his thigh. “You’ve never told me that before.”

Yuri rolls his eyes. Of course he has. He says it every time Otabek wears them because it’s still true. He strokes the back of Otabek’s neck and doesn’t respond. Otabek smiles. Yuri smiles back.

“So,” he says, Yuri sliding his fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck, “what do you want to do tonight?”

Yuri tips his head to the side as he considers his options. “Hmm.” He pretends to mull over the possibilities. “I guess I’d like to do you.”

Otabek laughs low and deep, and Yuri’s heart flutters. “You say that every night.”

“That’s because I can never lie to you.” Before Otabek can respond, Yuri kisses him. He scratches his scalp, and Otabek hums and tips his head back to encourage the action. Yuri follows his lips as they break apart at the movement. He drags the fingernails of his other hand over the top of Otabek’s head.

The kisses are leisurely. Yuri shifts his attention to Otabek’s neck, still scratching his head. He’s warm, the feeling spreading throughout his body.

“Let’s go to bed,” he says in a low voice. Otabek’s arm slips from his shoulder. “Beshka?” There’s a cut-off snore that follows. “Really?” But Yuri should really know better at this point: the best way to get Otabek to sleep is head scratches. He learned this years ago.

He can’t help by smile, though, looking at Otabek. His mouth is parted, his face relaxed. Yuri’s body fills with a different warmth.

He retrieves a blanket and his phone and settles back on top of Otabek. He takes his arm and drapes it around his shoulders again. Otabek stirs and reflexively pulls him closer. He doesn’t wake fully.

“You should have taken a nap with me earlier,” Yuri says, laying his head on Otabek’s shoulder.


End file.
